The Vegeta I Know
by SaiyanPrince541
Summary: In the aftermath of the cataclysmic battle with Cell, one warrior loses everything. His morale, pride, self-esteem, resolve and that flaming desire to be the strongest, have all been extinguished by his rival's death, a crushing defeat at the hands of his enemy and his failure to protect the son he'd grown to care for. Can Bulma help Vegeta reclaim his lost pride and honor? R/R!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Respect

A forgotten warrior stood aimlessly, long after everyone had fled the scene of the cataclysmic battle that had occurred, feeling more at odds with himself than ever before. Everything went so fast, it was like a blur. He was still unable to piece it all together. The moment he saw his son impaled right through the sternum at the hands of Cell, a painfully agonizing feeling began to stir in the burrows of his chest, thrashing about more and more violently with each and every passing second. As he saw Mirai Trunks coughing out globs of blood, he stared wide-eyed, abhorred by the sight. A need began to blossom deep within, slowly, but surely embedding itself within the cold, icy heart of the Saiyan Prince. The need for revenge. The need for blood. The blood of the beast who'd killed his son, his blood, his... pride.

Yes, he was proud of his son! For one whole year, they'd trained in the same room. As always, he'd been aloof, reserved and distant. The boy meant nothing to him. He was a half-breed abomination as far as he was concerned. An accident that arose from one of several loathsome cohabitations with that insufferable blue-haired banshee... But that didn't stop Trunks. He did his utmost to be strong, spirited and worthy in his father's eyes... to be a true warrior, as was in his blood. And he did not disappoint.

Though, the Prince never showed it, he was impressed by his relentless drive and determination. The endless white void of the hyperbolic time-chamber was more gruesome than the fiery pits of hell, worse than any nightmare imaginable, to say the least. The moment you stepped off the central platform, you took on ten times your body's weight and as you moved further and further into the void, the gravity level increased correspondingly as did the air pressure, to the the point, where it felt as though the air around you was a liquid medium as viscous as water and if you went even further, it practically felt as if you were wading through a gigantic pool of honey. Add to that the decreasing quantity of oxygen that could made you feel as though you were practically in the lonely heart of the vast empty vacuum of space. And yet, the Prince didn't stop advancing. But every step he took forward, every advancement he made, Trunks moved with him. The boy never ceased, never gave up. At first, it amused him.

'The boy's good.' He thought with smug overconfidence. 'But there's no way he'll last much longer. A few more days of this and he'll be scurrying out the door, like a frightened kitten, with his tail between his legs.'

But he couldn't have been more wrong. Trunks didn't relent, didn't give in and didn't show weakness... He put on a stoic façade of indifference as he followed in his proud father's footsteps, telling the Prince, without words, one thing: 'Every drop of blood that flows through your veins, flows through mine as well. Your strength, courage, fortitude and tenacity are mine too, for I am your son!'

They'd train separately, as Vegeta had demanded, but that didn't stop the demi-Saiyan prodigy from scrutinizing every detail, as his father trained, soaking it all in, emulating it and making it his. This did not change the Prince's attitude though. He continued being his trademark taciturn self and kept his distance. Yes, the boy was a warrior, but he was only half-Saiyan. He would not reach his level, no matter how hard he tried. But when he saw Trunks break through that barrier and ascend beyond the powers of Super Saiyan, only a few weeks after he'd mastered the technique, he could not hide his awe... As he saw his muscles augment and a new scintillating golden aura flare around him, he felt his pride swell to whole new levels and knew then that this was his son... a true Saiyan Prince at heart. Trunks smirked at his gaping expression and knew then that every smidgeon of pain he felt, every burn, every scar, every laceration, all those sleepless nights and dreadfully agonizing days, where it took everything he had just to remain on his feet... It had all been worth it, because he could see right through his legendary father's teal eyes, something he'd never seen from him before: Acceptance.

Though they continued training their separate ways, they did spar from time to time and every instance they'd trade blows, it felt as though the very foundations of the Universe quaked. Vegeta could not have felt more reverence for the boy, if he tried. And now... now, he lay there dying, gurgling and choking on his own blood. He grit his teeth and let out a nasty snarl as he focused his smoldering gaze upon the bastard responsible: Cell! He would die for this!

 **A/N: This is going to be a short story. A couple chapters at the very mos** **t. I normally only publish completed stories, but this is an exception, because it's minor.**

 **So what did you think? Please review... I'll update frequently, but the more reviews I get, the quicker I update!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Failure

The battle was over and he'd lost it all. Kakarot was dead and his drive to surpass him, to be the best there was, had died with him. Then he'd failed to right the wrong perpetrated against Trunks, by Cell's monstrous hands. He'd failed to give the monster his comeuppance and in the end, the only credit he could take was managing to distract Cell with a Ki blast, long enough for his rival's whelp to obliterate the beast single-handedly.

He was nothing. Nothing but a footnote in this great battle. All the glory that should've been his was stolen from him. His pride was ground into the dirt and blasted away into the abyss. The third-class had humiliated him at every turn, first when he and his allies had defeated him on Earth, then when he'd been the one to avenge the Saiyan race by defeating Frieza and now, when both he and his son had surpassed his strength and left him in the dust. His mind was in shambles, clogged with only contempt, scorn and derision, directed solely towards himself. He'd failed, in every way and in the end, he could not avenge his son.

The Prince zoomed off, flying aimlessly until he finally decided to settle upon a rocky arch in the middle of nowhere. After a while of brooding desultorily, it began to rain, first in small dribbles and quickly afterwards, the water began to attack Vegeta in a heavy and violent flood that inundated him completely. He stood for hours on end, his clothes and body, a drenched mess.

It was only fitting, he guessed, the rain that covered every inch of him from head to toe, symbolizing a fine film of failure. Yes, that's all he was, a failure. He'd failed as a Prince. Failed to protect his father, his kingdom, his planet and his race. He'd failed as a warrior, unable to avenge his race against the tyrant that had enslaved and tormented him for decades and in the end, surpassed by a wretched third class warrior. But what hurt more than ever was his failure as a father. Trunks... He'd done nothing but scorn him from the beginning and cast him aside. The boy had followed him around like a lost little pup and did all he could to prove worthy in his eyes. And he did. But Vegeta had never conveyed it. He did nothing but keep his distance and on occasion, engage him in epic, heated spars that took their toll on the both of them. Of course, nearly all the time, he'd emerge the victor, but the demi-Saiyan boy had his moments and his level of strength, skill and vigour never ceased to amaze. In the end, he could not avenge him either. Every second that passed, every thrum of his heart beat and every twitch of his aching muscles, added more shame to his already overflowing stockpile. He felt like nothing but a waste of space. A weakling. He could practically taste the foul bitterness of the failure coursing through every vein and capillary and his face looked haggard and his eyes bloodshot.

He shook his head furiously and instantly flew off towards Capsule Corporation, inconspicuously headed straight for the window, hiding his presence from all those within and lying on his bed, to wallow in his own misery. It was just past midnight, when he'd felt the Ki of that wretched blue-haired woman headed right for his door. He used his Ki to press in the lock button.

Bulma knocked on the door.

"Vegeta, you in here?" She asked, knocking once again. No response. She tried opening it, but it wouldn't budge. Still, it gave her answer she needed.

"Hey, open the damn door!" She demanded, but had no success in garnering his attention. "Hey! This is my house and when I say open, you open, got it?!"

Again, nothing... She groaned in exasperation.

"Alright fine, if you don't open up in three seconds, I'm going to start singing as loud as I can." She threatened, "Three, two-"

"What do you want?!" Yelled Vegeta to the top of his voice. Goddamn wench was so rankling! She never failed to grate his nerves! How she was still breathing was beyond him. He didn't sound nearly as menacing, gruff or virile, as he always did. Bulma instantly knew something was off. Being neglectful, offhanded, uncouth and dismissive were his trademarks, but here, he just sounded lost and so... distraught.

"Are you okay?" She asked, solicitously.

"Go away." He replied in a low and weak voice.

Withdrawn and reticent, as always. And yet something was different. He sounded so empty and not like his usual animated and robust self. Bulma sighed and decided to let the matter drop, instead getting straight down to business.

"Listen, Trunks is leaving early in the morning, just after sunrise." She stated. Trunks had told her of Vegeta's bravery in battle, when he'd launched straight towards Cell, without a single thought of self-preservation. She'd known that deep inside Vegeta did care. She could always tell, but the news was still gobsmacking to say the least. She shook her head, deciding to ruminate some other time. "Look... I know you'll want to see him off and... I want you to be there... Vegeta?"

The Prince was pensive like never before... See his son? For what? To gaze upon the look of derision and repugnance on his face? To see the son he'd done nothing but disappoint at every turn, when he insulted him repeatedly in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, bitterly rejected him again and again and as the icing on the cake of failure, been unable to protect and avenge him from Cell. He would not be there. Trunks was better off without him and so was everyone else.

 **A/N: Thanks all, for the reviews and favourites! I'll be sure to write up the next chapter very soon and it will be more than worth your while! As always, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, especially you, LVR4Trunks-n-Vegeta! I always appreciate your feedback!**

Chapter 3: Exile

Against his plans and wishes, Vegeta had decided to see off Trunks, before the latter went away to face the Androids of his time. Of course, he wouldn't have, but Bulma persistently nagged him to the point of insanity and he'd finally caved in. He wasn't sorry though. Though the Prince didn't show it, his crushed pride and morale were assuaged to some degree when he saw the boy smile at him. He, as usual, shrouded any hint of emotion behind a stoic, stone-cold, nonchalant façade.

"Father." Trunks offered Vegeta a dazzling smile. With all the effort he could muster, the Prince avoided the urge to smile back and instead just gave his own farewell gesture with two fingers, which was of course, reciprocated in kind.

After Trunks left, Vegeta spent his days in solitude, cramping himself in his quarters of Capsule Corporation's residential complex, doing absolutely nothing, except moping and wallowing in his own self-pity. He hardly even ate and when he did, it was during the dark, lonely hours of midnight, when the rest of the world was sleeping. It was so unlike him, but he didn't care anymore. He didn't care about being the strongest, because in the end, all of his efforts had ended with an eleven year old boy exceeding his skill in battle. When all was said and done, all those agonizingly painful days and restless nights had amounted to absolutely nothing... As far as he saw fit.

Soon, days turned into weeks and almost two months had passed since Trunks' departure into his timeline, yet no one had seen neither hide nor hair of the lonely Prince. Vegeta would often take trips flying around the world and visiting places at random, just to loosen his muscles and pass away the time. During one such occasion, he wound up near a seemingly abandoned hovel that appeared to be in an empty wasteland, in the middle of nowhere. Having nothing better to do, he flew up above, to get a bird's eye view of the godforsaken premisis. It had a tattered awning extending from the back and several gaping holes on the rooftop.

'What on Earth am I doing here?' Thought the Prince, but just as he was about to leave, his sensitive hearing caught wind of a baby girl crying. That instantly drew his attention.

He descended right above the roof and gazed through one of the many perforations. He could see a young brunette woman in frayed attire, cradling the girl in her arms, as though it were the most precious and fragile thing in the world... and naturally it was.

"It's okay Clara..." The woman cooed, "Mommy's here."

After a minute or so, the baby finally calmed down and started to relax. Vegeta shook his head, wondering why he'd even bothered to come here. Just as he was about to bolt, the woman's next words struck a soft spot in his heart, if he had one.

"Enzo, why'd you have to leave us?" She looked up wistfully, tears brimming her emerald eyes. She gasped when she saw a man on the rooftop, surveying her and Vegeta quickly took off, headed back to Capsule Corporation, all the while, deeply pensive. Did he come here for a reason? Was the world telling him something? Is this how Bulma and Trunks would end up, if he continued spurning them? Sure, she was the richest woman in the world, but she was still a single mother. He'd cast the two of them aside once before when he chose to train in space, the moment he learned of the pregnancy. He was no father, he'd thought. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could offer to a child... could he?

He scoffed, paying no heed to such thoughts. He got it right the first time. They were better off without him. She still had her eccentric parents and perhaps that scar-faced fool. He shuddered. Even thinking about that weakling getting intimate with Bulma, made his stomach churn. But if he continued to turn a blind eye to her and baby Trunks, could he blame her for seeking comfort elsewhere? He groaned vexedly! Goddamn jealousy! No one else made him feel this way, but that accursed blue-haired harpy!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Solace

For a week or so longer, Vegeta continued his usual routine, until one night, when he was caught off guard, his bleariness dulling his senses. He was wearing only his knee-length boxers. As he was headed to the kitchen, little did he know that Bulma was leaning against the countertop, opposite the fridge.

Just as he was about to open the fridge door, he was interrupted.

"Vegeta." Bulma had stress and exhaustion writ all over her face. She was wearing a pink, knee level, seamless, silken sleep dress that could be made out in the moonlight.

The Prince suddenly had his guard up and whirled around in a defensive stance. Dammit! How could he have been so stupid?! He let out an enraged snarl.

"What are you doing here?!" He demanded.

"Look, I'm not here to pick a fight." She replied, forcing on a amicable, but strained smile. The heiress was too exhausted to be vexed by his prolonged absence or his overt acrimony. "It's just... been so long since I last saw you."

Vegeta scoffed.

"Well now you've seen me." He changed direction, headed straight back for his room, more indignant than ever. He didn't even know why he was pissed. He just felt such a deep sense of self-loathing that he was ashamed of even being seen by anyone, most of all her. The last thing he needed was for her to rub his failure in his face. All he wanted was to keep to himself and slowly wither away and die... well, hopefully not too slowly.

"Wait." Bulma called out, in a desperate voice. Vegeta stopped where he was and let out an exasperated sigh.

"What now?!" He snarled, without bothering to turn around and face her.

"Just... let me say one thing." She pleaded.

His stiffened shoulders finally slumped and she saw that as her cue.

"I'm proud of you, Vegeta." She stated in a soft, yet fervent tone. Bulma figured that being mad or belligerent would only drive him away and she needed him now, more than ever. No one else could fill the void he'd left behind, since that somber day he'd taken off into space. Not Yamcha, not anyone. Just him. A little while after Vegeta had taken off over a year ago, her scar-faced ex had tried on more than one occasion, to approach her and make things right between them. He'd even offered to be the father to Trunks that Vegeta could or would never be. She couldn't deny that her mind was inclined to open her arms to Yamcha, but her heart just wouldn't let her. Despite all that Vegeta had done, she still loved him. No one had ever made her feel so... complete, on every level. Whether it was during their heated verbal battles or their passionate bouts of fervid love-making, a deep part of her knew that Vegeta was the one for her. The only one. And none of her ex's aspersions could convince her otherwise.

Of course, Yamcha didn't feel that way anymore. He had told Bulma that she was right about Vegeta, all along. That there was good in him, because he'd witnessed it himself in the battle with Cell. He no longer made any endeavours to try and coax or wheedle his way back into her heart or into her bed, not that it would work anyway. Still, she was relieved at the evolution in Yamcha's character and the two of them had rekindled their old friendship.

Vegeta felt his whole body transfix and his heart freeze. He was nonplussed. He had expected her to lash out at him or perhaps throw a frying pan or beer bottle at his head, but to say that she was proud of him... not in a million years would he have predicted those words to escape her lips. Why would she say that? He whirled around and frowned at her.

"What is there to be proud of?!" He scowled.

"You defended Trunks." She answered, smiling warmly at him.

"I failed Trunks!" He rectified, refusing to meet her azure eyes, that sparkled ever so brightly, under the glittering moonlight.

"You didn't fail him!" She adamantly narrowed her eyes at him. "You protected him, like a true father should and I don't care what you think, I'm proud of you for it!" Her expression softened, as she saw the look of surprise and bewilderment coalesce on his countenance. "And you helped Gohan beat Cell. No one can take that away from you."

"A half-breed boy beat Cell!" He spat in disgust, "He surpassed my strength and left me with nothing!"

"He surpassed everyone's strength, not just yours." Bulma argued, furrowing her brows. "Even his father's. And last I remember, Cell was so powerful that even Goku gave up. I really don't understand what you're so ashamed of or why you've been feeling the need to hide for the last two months."

"I'm not hiding!"

"Oh?!" She countered, "Then what do you call it?!"

Vegeta sputtered incoherent sounds, unable to argue back.

"It's hiding, that's what it is!" Bulma stated resolvedly, "The Vegeta I know never ran from anyone or anything."

The Prince sighed dejectedly.

"That man's dead." He stated, a cold and empty expression etched on his features.

"Do I have to spell it out for you Vegeta?!" Yelled the heiress, having had just about enough of his resigned behaviour, "You're acting like a fucking coward!"

A second later, the Prince stood in front of her, a menacing scowl embedded on his face.

"What did you call me?!"

"You heard me!" Bulma bore her teeth at Vegeta, not deterred in the least. "Need me to say it again?!"

"No one calls the Prince of-"

"Exactly!" Bulma interjected, "You're the Prince of Saiyans! So pull yourself together and act like it!"

"What the hell do you know about it?!" He was mere inches from her face now, gnashing his teeth menacingly, "Nothing!"

"I know this!" Bulma replied back, refusing to give any ground. "Whatever you put your mind to, you can do it! But not if you sit around feeling sorry for yourself and avoiding everyone, like some... woman!"

There! She said it! And she had no qualms, whatsoever! Vegeta felt his entire body bristle in fury... It was taking every ounce of effort not to obliterate this presumptuous female where she stood.

"You're treading on thin ice, wench..." The Prince warned in a low, baleful and deceptively calm tone that promised death.

"Well, if that's what it takes, then so be it!" Bulma replied ardently, refusing to back away.

They glared daggers at each other for the longest time. Vegeta's fists were clenched so tight and his muscles were trembling with the effort to contain his mountainous ire. Bulma set her gaze downwards and let out a weary sigh, before softening her expression and looking up at Vegeta again and the latter narrowed his eyes at her.

"You've beaten the odds before Vegeta." She offered him a dazzling smile. "No one believed you could surpass Goku. Hell, I didn't even believe it. But you did it, anyway. You didn't let anything stop you and you worked tirelessly, until you finally did it. You broke that barrier and became a thing of legend."

Vegeta was taken aback by her sudden change in tone and his anger slowly slipped away. He felt his heart skitter, in response to her words, in that serene voice of hers.

Bulma tentatively placed her arms around his neck and drew him into a tight, passionate embrace, relishing in the warmth and firmness of his perfectly sculpted body. She let out a pleasurable shudder. She'd missed his feel. He didn't know how much she'd missed it.

Vegeta felt his chest constrict and jolts of electricity shoot down his spine. Every vein and capillary in his body, felt as though it were engulfed in liquid fire, as her soft, lithe body, pressed against his.

"You can do it again Vegeta..." She cooed into his ear, lightly scratching the back of his head with her right hand, eliciting a deep purring sound from the hollows of his chest. She smiled and with her other hand, she gingerly rubbed his back. "You can be the best. I know you can. I believe in you."

Vegeta's heart was racing so fast, he felt it would break out of his chest. He couldn't fight it anymore, as he placed his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He felt his faded morale surge through the roof and his resolve heighten, as he heard those words from his... woman. Yes, that's who Bulma was... The Prince brought his face to the recess of her neck and inhaled in her sweet, floral scent. Oh how he'd missed that scent.

"Foolish woman." He mumbled.

Bulma let out a shiver and her legs weakened, as she felt her Prince scenting her. Yes, her Prince! Her annoying, obnoxious, uncouth, Saiyan Prince!

"Goku's gone..." She murmured. "He refused to return and now Gohan and his unborn brother will grow up without their father..."

She pulled back and looked imploringly at Vegeta.

"Don't make the same mistake, Vegeta..." She looked at him solemnly. "Trunks needs you... I need you."

Vegeta felt so belied with himself and yet... he felt so right, here and now, with Bulma in his arms. He never felt so right before, so... at peace. It felt good, in such a strange way. The Prince let out an exhale through his nose, before nodding weakly. Bulma twinkled at him, as she placed her hands on either side of his face and promptly pressed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered, before he responded to those soft, luscious lips of hers and began kissing back. The moment Bulma's lips parted, he slithered his tongue inside and began exploring the velvety cavern of sweetness within, as his hands began caressing the smooth, voluptuous curves of her breasts and then her hips and legs, making her tingle at every turn, while her hands roamed across his firmly knit arms and compact, chiseled out pecs and abs. He felt goosebumps at every inch of skin warmed by her soft, graceful hands. Their tongues danced jovially, as they swallowed each other's moans, misery, loneliness and tension, that had been brewing ever so greatly, for nearly two years. It had been far too long. She was right. He wouldn't act like a weakling anymore! He would not fail his son ever again, as he did his future counterpart! He would be the best! He would train his son to be the best and show Kakarot's brat what true power really was!

After many long moments passed, Bulma finally pulled back and let go, looking at him with a scorching, lust-filled gaze. She wanted him, badly. Vegeta felt his heart lurch as he saw that blazing look in her big, beautiful, blue eyes and couldn't help it, as he gulped and his face flushed three shades of crimson. Bulma couldn't resist the urge to smirk coquettishly. She tapped his nose with her index finger and ran off while yelling: "catch me if you can."

"What the?!" It took Vegeta a few moments to register what had happened. "Get back here, Earth female!"

He promptly chased after her and she laughed, as she continued trying to stay out of dodge. That night was the best night of heat-filled passion, in both their lives... Well, best night, so far.

 **A/N:** **LVR4Trunks-n-Vegeta: As far as the family in the previous chapter goes, let's just say that a day or two after this, Vegeta asks Dr. Brief for a couple million Zenis in cash and drops it off in their house, without letting anyone know.**

 **So I guess that's it. What did you think?**

 **If you do not review, "I will look for you, I will find you and I will kill you!" (Liam Neeson voice)**


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